


Idolum

by elkgnu



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not A Fix-It, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18276245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elkgnu/pseuds/elkgnu
Summary: Tony Stark can see ghosts.





	Idolum

**Author's Note:**

> oof uh this is my first fic,, i mean i’ve written fics before but never really posted them anywhere soooOooOOO cehwciude i’m nervous
> 
> title is literally just “ghost” in latin (according to google translate whoop-de-doo)
> 
> this is kind of like an extremely short version of tony’s life with a lil bit of ghosts au thrown in there
> 
> and this is!! not!! an infinity war!! fix-it!!
> 
> !!: there are mentions of suicide; someone thinking about committing suicide but not going through with it (you already know who it is lmao), a lot of people die (it’s infinity war what do you expect) but there’s not really any descriptive gore i think
> 
> tell me if i need to add or remove any tags or change the rating / warning!!!!!!

Tony can see ghosts. Of course, he might have just been hallucinating everything. He preferred to not think about that.

The problem was that the dead seemed to hang around him exclusively. He’s only ever seen one or two people with their own ghosts. They would make eye contact as if saying, “You’re not alone.”

When Tony looks around, he sees the clamouring hands and the wordless movement of their mouths as they fight for space beside him. Maybe they just wanted to be seen? Maybe that’s why they followed him. A trail of cold death wherever he walked.

He really was the merchant of death. Just in a way that nobody knew.

His first glimpse was when he found out that his parents died. In a drunken stupor, he stumbled to the kitchen and reached for a knife, willing to end it all just to spite Howard (no, he wouldn’t carry on the Stark legacy, not the way he was supposed to, he wouldn’t be Howard’s puppet to carry on with his unfinished work). He held it to his wrist, trying to scrape enough courage together to do it when a pale, almost paper white, arm emerged from behind and reached for him. Tony threw the knife towards the hand but went wide by several metres of course, he was more than a little tipsy.

The knife bounced off the wall and dropped to the floor, and there was no sign of the hand.

Looking back, the hand had probably saved him from killing himself. Maybe it had intended to do something else, but it’d still saved him. He didn’t know. Tony never saw that hand again.

He’s never seen his parents’ ghosts.

§

His next sighting was a long while after, in Afghanistan. in that shit-hole where he was tortured and forced to build weapons. Where he made the first arc reactor. Where he built the first Iron Man out of a pile of scraps.

He crouched at Yinsen’s side, urging him to stay with him, he was going to stay alive, he was going to breathe and see his family again and be happy, the steadily growing stain of dark red contradicting each hopeless thought. There was movement in the corner of his eye and he looked over his shoulder to see the blurry shape of Yinsen crouching next to him.

Okay, Tony yelled then. What else are you supposed to do when you see the ghost of a person you just saw die right next to you? The fuzzy outline of Yinsen smiled and his mouth moved. Tony couldn’t hear him over the roaring of blood in his ears.

He didn’t know when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, it was to the dark cave and Yinsen’s corpse tainting the air with the overwhelming scent of copper.

Tony stood up. Although he couldn’t see Yinsen, he knew that his ghost stood with him, lending him the strength to avenge his death.

Hah. Avenge.

§

Over the years, he amassed a cluster of the dead, some whispering encouragement as he deflected Rogers’ shield and blasted off Barnes’ arm, others snarling at him as he lay panting in the snow, staring after the receding shapes as they hobbled away.

They were silent most of the time. Sometimes, he could call on one to materialise, but he always felt like he’d run a marathon afterwards.

§

He watched them turn to dust. Mantis, Drax, Starlord, Strange.

“Something is happening.”

“Quill?”

“Oh, man.”

“There was no other way.”

Their ghosts didn’t appear.

His heart lurched as Spider Man, no - Parker, Peter Parker, staggered over to him.

“Mr Stark?”

No. No, no, no. Please no.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“You’re alright.” He had to be.

“I don’t know- I don’t know what’s happening- I don’t-“

Peter stumbled into him, and Tony wrapped his arms around him, no, he couldn’t. He couldn’t go. He wouldn’t let him go.

“I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go. Please. Please, I don’t wanna go.

He could feel the ghosts crowding around them. No, Tony thought furiously, you can’t have him.

The weight in his hands grew heavier as Peter sank to the ground and Tony felt the crushing pressure of dread settle on to his shoulders with disgusting familiarity. Peter was still wearing the iron-spider suit, the suit that Tony himself had made for Peter. The suit that allowed him to get up here in the first place, the suit that, yes, saved him, but ultimately killed him.

The paper white hands were reaching for Peter, trying to tug on him but failing to move even a hair.

Peter’s eyes bored into his own, the image ingrained into his mind.

“I’m sorry.”

His brown eyes glazed over and slid away from Tony’s gaze.

There were hisses as the ghosts drew back from Peter as if stung. Tony didn’t know what that meant. Maybe they would leave Peter.

He could still feel Peter’s body shifting unnaturally under his hands.

His head melted away into that grey dust, followed by the rest of his body, suit and all.

Tony stared at the spot where Peter had been just a few seconds ago.

The ghosts were gone.

And they’d taken Peter with them.

No. Where was his ghost? If there’s no ghost, Peter isn’t dead. Tony put his hand in the dust and tried to draw Peter’s ghost out, relishing in the fact that it didn’t appear even as he felt himself crumple to the ground.

The hand was there. The one that came to him when his parents died. It reached for his arm, fingers scrabbling against thin air.

It was warm. The hand was warm. And it glowed a gold light.

Suddenly, it changed. Tony knew that hand. It wasn’t fair.

“Give him back,” he whispered, but he knew it was pointless. There was hot breath on his shoulder and he looked behind him to see a faint outline of Peter.

“Please. Come back.”

Peter looked sad, maybe even scared. He still smiled. After all Tony had done to him, dragged him into the fight with Rogers and almost getting him killed, ignoring his calls and almost getting him killed, letting him join the fight against Thanos and getting him killed.

“Goodbye.”

The comforting warmth faded, leaving him kneeling in the last cold traces of Peter Parker on a forgotten planet. Alone.

**Author's Note:**

> yes i know nebula is there so he isn’t alone but justt forget about that
> 
> sorry this is so short,, i find it hard to write more then 1k and i know my writing is wack but i’ve been trying to write more and the tense in this fic is all over the place
> 
> let me know if there’s any errors or anything and i’ll fix it
> 
> keep in mind that i has to rewatch peter dying many times just to get his lines right so i’m emotionally shattered again :”)
> 
> also please!! give feedback!! even a just a kudos is amazing,, i need validation lmao i’m writing too much here hmfdhtjtdyj


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